


London Calling Part 1

by TheFutureMrsCapaldi



Series: London Calling [1]
Category: In the Loop (2009) & The Thick of It
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFutureMrsCapaldi/pseuds/TheFutureMrsCapaldi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You go to London for a seminar and happen to encounter Malcolm Tucker</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Calling Part 1

I had just arrived at Heathrow Airport after an exhausting flight over the Atlantic for a seminar in legal proceedings in the UK. Sitting in the café area with a London Times, I was jet-lagged, ready to swear off international flight forever, when I heard a man speaking loudly in a thick Glaswegian accent. Instantly tingles went down my spine, and I sat up straight while looking for the source.

“What the fuck do you mean you lost my fucking reservation you fucking faggot?” he screamed at the rather effeminate man behind the counter. “Please sir, lower your voice, there are women and children around,” the airport employee begged the irate Scotsman. “I FUCKING WILL NOT LOWER MY FUCKING VOICE,” the man screamed. “NOW FIND MY FUCKING RESERVATION OR I’LL HAVE YOUR FUCKING JOB!!” As a general rule, I have little or no tolerance for someone who over-swears, whether live, on television, or in movies. However, the sound of swearing in a Scottish, particularly Glaswegian, accent causes me to twitch with pleasure. I could tell THIS guy was the naughty type, just the kind to help me relax after my flight.

I folded my newspaper, laid it on the table, grabbed my bag and approached him with confidence. “Might I have a word, sir?” I asked him, placing my hand on his arm. “Get your fucking hands off me you fucking fat cunt, and fuck off!” he replied, jerking away. When I showed him my badge, however, he quieted down just a little and followed me to a corner of the room.

“What do you want?” he asked me, slightly more respectful in tone but with a look of disdain on his face. “Basically?” I said, “I want you to fuck me.” Disdain quickly became disgust. “Why the fuck would I want to fuck a fucking fat American cow like you?” I smiled at him and lowered my voice as I said, “You must not have heard. Large women, large appetites…” I said, licking my lips languorously while looking at his zipper. I let my voice trail off as I leaned toward his ear and whispered “…and tight… little… cunts.” I hissed a bit on the S, and let the tip of my tongue flick against his earlobe just before I retreated.

His facial expression when I looked again was a combination of shock and pure animalistic lust. His eyebrows had shot straight up, and I could tell by the bulge in his pants that something else was quickly joining them. I looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, smiled, then picked up my bag and started to walk away from him. “Wait,” he called out in a choked voice, and I heard the sound of hard-soled shoes on tile hurrying behind me. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me around roughly.

“Where are you staying?" He asked, a look of quiet desperation on his face. I knew I’d have that effect on him, I’d gotten enough practice. “I’m supposed to stay at…” and gave the name of a small, cheap hotel where all the seminar guests were staying. “Fuck that, I’ll give you a ride to one of the best fucking hotels in London and you’re staying THERE, my treat. I’m the fucking Director of Communications for the fucking Prime Minister, I have a lot of pull in this town.”

I realized at that point why I’d thought he looked familiar. I’d seen pictures of him in the paper. Malcolm Tucker, if I wasn’t mistaken. I agreed, and we headed to the parking lot. He was driving a shiny black sedan with tinted windows. I thought about what I could accomplish in that car without anyone outside knowing and grinned. I might just show him, I thought to myself. He unlocked the car remotely and I threw my bag in the backseat, which was upholstered in a cream-colored leather. Climbing in front, I allowed my skirt to rise a little above my knee. I have good legs, toned and muscular, and I’m not afraid to show them off when the occasion calls for it.

I saw him looking as he got in the driver’s side, which was on my right, as is customary for British vehicles. It was unusual but convenient for me as I’m right-handed. “Holy fuck, your legs,” Malcolm said hoarsely, and I replied “Yours aren’t bad either,” running my hand from his knee up the top of his thigh and back. The car’s motor might not have been running, but his DEFINITELY was. His cock was clearly outlined in his charcoal grey pants, and he was breathing heavily. I moved my hand from the top of his thigh to the inside, lightly grazing him with my nails. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his head thrust back with pleasure. “Oh fuck I want you to suck me off,” he groaned. I brushed across his zipper, and his hips thrust forward. “Start driving,” I ordered him, not stopping.

He took several deep breaths, trying to regain his composure enough to stick the key in the ignition. His hands were shaking, but he finally accomplished it after fumbling a few seconds. I used my left hand to reach across him and fasten his safety belt. I licked the sweat off his Adam's apple as I did and he groaned again. “Oh fuck I want to fuck you,” he cried, digging his nails into the leather of the steering wheel. “Drive, you asshole. You'll get what I want you to have” I told him. He put the car into gear and we drove, slightly faster than was legal, out of the parking lot.

Much sooner than I anticipated we were caught in the middle of London traffic. “Oh fuck, we'll NEVER get there at this fucking rate,” Malcolm complained. “Don’t worry, I know how to make it better,” I responded, unfastened my own belt, and turned toward him. My hands began unbuttoning and unzipping his pants with remarkable speed. “What the fuck, you’re going to do this HERE?!” He asked, incredulous. “You want me to wait until the hotel?” I asked, still stroking his long, hard cock. He shook his head no, unable to speak as I pulled him free of his trousers.

“Good boy,” I said, smiling. “Just keep your hands on the wheel and we’ll be just fine.” I lowered my head, lightly brushing the tip of his cock with my lips. His hips jerked as far as they could with his belt on, and I grinned. This was almost as good as if I’d been able to tie him down. I licked around the head, and he screamed “Oh, you fucking BITCH!” I laughed deep in my throat, then took more of him into my mouth, just the first couple of inches, licking and sucking as I did. I felt his left hand grab my hair, trying to force me down, and I backed off quickly. “Bad boy, not doing as I said,” I admonished him, smiling slightly but with an authoritarian tone. “Hands back on the wheel, NOW, or you won’t get any more from me.”

I heard him growl “Fuck you, you fucking bitch” quietly, but he put his hand back. I leaned toward him again, this time to lick the drippings of his pre-come off his cock. I wished I literally had eyes in the back of my head at this point. I like to watch their faces while I suck them and fuck them. I took his cock completely into my mouth now, increasing the suction, licking him up and down as my head bobbed. “OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK I’M GONNA FUCKING COME!!” he screamed, and then my mouth was full of his hot, sweet, salty come. I swallowed and swallowed, and it seemed he’d never stop. His hips were straining against the belt, and once he’d finally finished, he relaxed with a shuddering sigh.

I felt his hands drop from the steering wheel, his right arm onto his leg, his left across my back. I sat up, licking my lips to get the last of him off my mouth. His head was bent forward, and he was breathing deeply. “What the fuck was THAT?” he mumbled, as he tried to put his cock back into his pants. “Oh, that was something I usually like to do with the car moving, but since we couldn’t…” I replied humbly, buckling my seatbelt. “That was the best fucking head I ever fucking got,” he said in wonder. “Can all fat chicks mouth fuck like that?” “I don’t know, I just know I personally enjoy it.”

After a few minutes, traffic finally started moving. Malcolm was more relaxed now, but still seemed anxious to get to the hotel. I stared straight ahead with a small smile, knowing as soon as we got there he’d be ready for more. After all, he’d want to know now what ELSE that I could do, and I was plenty ready to show him. My panties were wet, both from listening to him come and the act itself of sucking him off. I looked forward to being able to see his face when we did what we were going to do next.

We pulled up to a ritzy hotel, with valet parking and everything. Malcolm and I got out, and the valet retrieved my bag for me. I was pleased to see that Malcolm's knees were slightly rubbery as we walked into the lobby. He got me checked in, as a “guest of the Crown.” The receptionist glanced up but didn’t question the statement. She handed me a key card for 412, Malcolm grabbed my bag, and we headed for the elevator.

I pushed the “up” button, and when it arrived we stepped in. I glanced up and noticed there was a security camera attached to the ceiling. Damn, I thought to myself, If it wasn’t for that camera I’d show him right here. I knew we’d be at my room soon enough though. Surely I could wait until then. Still, the thought had me already twitching. When we reached the room, I unlocked the door and we went in. There were two double beds, and I threw my bag onto the one I wouldn’t be using. He came up behind me, and grabbed my breasts, digging his hips into my butt. I could feel his hardness already, and my nipples responded accordingly.

“I so want to fuck you,” he growled into my ear, nipping and licking my earlobe and neck. “Not yet, naughty Malcolm,” I said in a sing-song fashion, and opened my suitcase. Unzipping and reaching into the pocket inside the lid, I pulled out a pair of handcuffs and showed them to him, letting them dangle from my thumb. “What the fuck are you, a fucking dominatrix?” he asked, trying to sound shocked but instead sounding pleased and excited. “Not professionally. I’m a corrections officer in Tennessee,” I told him. “I just carry these with me in case of emergency… or in case of fun.” I grinned, and ordered him to take off his clothes.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he responded as he began unfastening his suit jacket, which was charcoal grey like his pants. He dropped it onto the floor, then unbuttoned his vest, which fell to meet his jacket. When he started unbuttoning his white linen shirt, I ordered him to slow down. “Why the fuck should I?” he complained. “Because, I told you to SLOW THE FUCK DOWN.” He frowned and smiled at the same time, but did what I told him. I think he liked being told what to do by a woman, and I liked telling him what to do.

I sat down on the end of the empty bed, and he turned toward me. I watched him open the shirt, staring at his lean, muscular body. I started twitching again, aching for when he finally finished disrobing but drawing out the pleasure. He pulled the shirt off his shoulders, throwing it across the room as soon as his arms left the sleeves. He then unbuckled his trousers, and unbuttoned the top. I stared at the bulge as he did, licking my lips in remembrance of the taste of him. “This, you can do a little faster,” I said, my breath quickening.

He readily complied, and soon his trousers were kicked across the room. His red silk boxers barely contained his erection, which strained at the thin fabric. “I’ll take it from here,” I told him, and he walked over to me. I pulled out the handcuffs, and instructed him to hold out his hands. “Normally I’d do this behind your back, but I think I want you to be able to reach me,” I said with a smile as I listened to the stainless steel click around his wrists. “Now lie down on the bed, on your back,” I commanded him as I stood to accommodate him. He sat on the end, then scooted with his long, muscular legs toward the head.

His boxers started slipping off, and I helped them down. I stripped off quickly and climbed onto the bed then, straddling him. He was fully erect, and by this time I was ready for him. I grasped him with my right hand and guided him to my cleft. I used the head of his cock to stroke myself up and down, letting him know how wet I was. I slid him toward the hole, and his hips jerked as he felt himself touch me. I backed up and said “Uh-uh, not yet.” I moved him up again, rubbing the head around and around my clitoris, which by now was swollen and throbbing. He started begging, “Fuck me, you fucking bitch,” trying to sound angry but only managing desperation.

I could feel him dripping inside me already, adding to my own personal lubrication. The need I heard in his voice drove me over the edge. I needed his length, his thickness, inside me NOW. I guided him back to where we both needed him and slowly lowered myself. He gasped and said “Oh FUCK, you’re so fucking tight, so fucking WET,” as I guided myself up and down. He sat up, using his strong abdominal muscles, reaching for my ample breasts. I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down, but leaned forward so he could have his prize.

He grabbed my left nipple, pinching and twisting it gently as I rode him. I clenched around his throbbing cock, and he cried out in pleasure. “Oh fuck, oh FUCK, you’re SO GOOD!!” He screamed, and I could feel how close he was to coming. I stopped, his length fully inside me. I could feel him struggling to thrust, but unable to under my weight. “Fuck, what are you fucking DOING to me?” he whimpered, and I said “I’LL decide when… and IF… you come.” “Oh, you fucking cunt,” he groaned, and reached for my right breast.

I could feel his swelling had subsided a bit, and started moving again, slowly at first, then faster as I felt him rubbing against my G spot. I leaned forward again, thrusting harder as he played with my left nipple, feeling myself about to come. He had started thrusting with me, and threw his handcuffed arms around me screaming “OH FUCK OH GOD OH FUCK OH GOD YES!! YES!! YES!!” as he squirted inside me. His voice carried me over the edge, and I felt myself pulsing around him as I finished, too, waves coursing through my body, from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes.

All the strength went out of my arms, and I fell forward, my face buried in the side of his neck. “Fuck, you’re fucking amazing,” he said quietly, and I chuckled. “Never underestimate the sexual power of a fat chick,” I told him, and licked a drop of sweat off his neck. He shuddered with pleasure, and said “Next fucking time, you’ll get to see what I can fucking do with the fucking cuffs OFF.” “I look forward to it,” I told him, and we just lay there for the moment, catching our breath, regaining our strength for when the next time WOULD happen.


End file.
